


Memo(rable) Anniversary

by ufp13



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was their anniversary, wasn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memo(rable) Anniversary

“Hey, Gris. What’s with the bow around the take-out cup?“

“Anniversary gift.”

“That’s what Cath said five days ago when she hurried back after the case to drop a memo onto your desk. Man, one of you must have gotten it wrong, and my bet’s not on her. Good luck, boss.” Warrick cast a last look of pity at Grissom, then headed to the break room.

Confusion clearly written on his face, Grissom eyed the cup in his hand as he made his way to his office to check for the ominous memo Warrick had mentioned.

Why the hell would Catherine send him a memo? She knew he didn’t read them.

Entering his office, he put down the cup on a shelf next to his beloved foetal pig, his focus on his desk – a mountain landscape of paper as usual. Somewhere in there was the mysterious memo. Five days ago, Warrick had said. Now, he only had to remember which folders had hit his desk since then.

While he shifted piles of papers and folders, Grissom mulled over the possible reasons for Catherine leaving him an anniversary gift five days ago and such a strange one at that. It just didn’t make sense. They had always celebrated the anniversary of their first meeting on June 22nd. Some people might consider their way of celebration not much of one, but for them, it worked. They would give each other an everyday something, most often food – an apple, a bottle of water – or something they knew was on the other’s current shopping list with a bow around it – only a bow, no wrapping paper or anything else – and, if the criminals and the dead of Las Vegas permitted, shared a meal.

A good ten minutes and a few unimportant memos later, Grissom finally found the one he had been looking for.

 

From: _Cath_  
To: _Gil_  
Date: _06/17_  
Subject: _Happy anniversary!_

_If you ever read this, consider yourself invited ~~backstage~~ for drinks at the Dancing Flamingo._

 

This certainly didn’t help dissolving Grissom’s confusion. Backstage? Why backstage? He was sure it was a hint. Catherine wouldn’t mess up like this, would take a new sheet if she had. And the Dancing Flamingo? The bar was next to the Strip and a bit shady. One of his last cases had been right around the corner, that’s why he knew. However, why Catherine would possibly invite him there eluded him. Obviously, the only way to get answers to his questions was to find Catherine and ask her.

The memo in hand, he strode out of his office in search of his best friend. Two steps into the corridor, he remembered the cup still sitting on the shelf.

Carrying cup and memo, he entered her office, closing the door behind himself, shutting out the questioning glances and raised eyebrows. In less than ten minutes, all should be well again. Those who knew, who had witness him with a gift before would explain to the unaware. While he preferred to keep his private life just that, he wasn’t ashamed of his friendship with the strawberry blonde who was every officer’s favourite CSI – she just made it easy to do the job to keep an eye on her the entire time. He had used to give her his gift in private, in secrecy, away from the lab until, one year, she challenged him by asking if he was afraid to be seen with her. It wasn’t as if everybody in the lab knew they were friends. He had had to admit she had point. Ever since, he greeted her with the gift at the beginning of their shift on the day of their anniversary.

As he put the cup in front of her, she looked up from the case file she had been studying.

“Happy anniversary, Cath.”

“Thank you, Gil. And happy anniversary to you, too.” She handed him a tooth brush with a yellow bow tied around it.

“Is that your way of telling me I have bad breath.” He tilted his head to the side.

In turn, she raised an eyebrow and stared back at him silently.

“Okay, okay. I wanted to buy a new one last week, but never got around to it thanks to the Meyer case. So thank you very much, Cath.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.” Taking a sip from the cup he had brought for her, she hummed. Hot chocolate with cream and a bit of cinnamon. “You remembered.”

“Of course, I do. Part of it ended up on my pants that night,” he teased.

 

Fifteen years ago, their paths had crossed in a diner. Originally, they had both occupied a table each until a larger group had entered and he had kindly given up his table after politely asking the young woman sitting at the table next to him if she would be willing to share it with him. Pushing her books aside with a smile, she had gestured for him to sit down.

A glance at her reading material had taught him once more how small the world really was. Medical science books. Contrary to his normal behaviour, he had started a conversation with the woman who, he had had to admit after having looked at her in silence for a few minutes, was very attractive. They had talked for a while, time passing faster than either of them had realised, when she turned a book to show him something, knocking over her almost empty cup in the process.

She had apologised profoundly, but he had just waved her off and had ordered another cup of whatever she had had – hot chocolate with cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

 

She slapped him on the arm. “If I remember correctly, you didn’t mind a bit.”

“How could I? I was spending the evening in the unexpected company of a beautiful woman who wasn’t the least bit set off by my line of work.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, having caught the compliment wrapped up in the dryly delivered statement.

Being a bit uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, he changed the subject – at least a bit.

“What’s this about?” he inquired, holding up the memo for her to see.

“Wow” was all she said.

“Catherine?”

“I can’t believe it. It took you only fifteen years to find it.”

“Fifteen years? It’s dated five days ago.”

“True, but I’ve been sending you one like this every anniversary for the last fifteen years.”

“But this one was posted five days before our anniversary.”

“As I said, I sent you one every anniversary for the last fifteen years. I can’t believe you finally found it.”

“Thanks to Warrick who mentioned it when I ran into him on the corridor earlier,” he admitted. “What about the date, though? Why five days before today?”

“Because that’s my anniversary of knowing you. Sort of.”

“Your anniversary? Sort of?” Grissom’s confusion grew by the second.

“It seems I didn’t leave much of an impression back then after all. And there I was one of the best.” She let out a dramatic sigh.

“What are you talking about?”

“Fifteen years and five days ago, Stephanie pointed out a quiet, obviously shy and seemingly misplaced guy in the corner before I stepped out onto the stage. I did my best to win his attention during the dances and maybe a few dollars, but he refused to even truly glimpse at me. Once I was ready to leave, though, he was already gone and with him my chance to invite him for a drink. Fate had it the same guy asked for a seat at my table five days later.”

“You... we... what?” Her story had obviously surprised, flustered him.

“Yes, Gil, you could have the envy of every officer of the LVPD if you had only lifted your eyes from your scotch that night.”

He shook his head to clear his mind. “So the invitation to drinks at the Dancing Flamingo...”

“Is the one I wanted to make fifteen years ago. Well, fifteen years and five days.”

“But why the Dancing Flamingo?”

“It used to be less shady than it is nowadays and around the corner from the club. Until they had to move due to some financial problems.”

“Ah.”

“So... could I interest you in a drink, stranger?”

“If it doesn’t have to be at the Dancing Flamingo, I’d gladly join you for a drink or two, fair beauty.”

“Tomorrow night?”

He nodded his consent. “I can’t believe you never brought it up all these years or that evening in the diner.”

“You never found my hint before, and I doubted you’d be comfortable with me mentioning the club. But yeah, I can’t believe it either. I’m still curious what caused you to visit a strip club that evening. So you owe me a story, mister.”

Acknowledging her demand with a nod, he continued the other line of discussion. “Some hint. You know I don’t read memos.”

“Yep, I do, but it seemed fitting as you hadn’t noticed me then either so it was my own personal tradition to try to attract your attention. Of course, to no avail. Just like all those years ago.”

“Does that mean we’re moving the day of our anniversary?”

“No, it means we’re adding another one.”

“Another one?”

“The day of the first memo Gilbert Grissom ever read.”

= End =


End file.
